Override
by Late2SGA
Summary: The Expedition's 'return to usual' Pegasus-style is being obstructed by the presence of the IOA and no one is responding well as tempers rise... A sort-of sequel to 'Underlying Cause'. Takes place S3, between Return II and Echoes. Team fic.


~ Override ~

Author's Note: This story begins a couple days after Underlying Cause. I tried to limit the references so it's not really necessary to read UC first.

Another Author's Note follows the story.

Word Count: 7728

Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Beckett, Weir.

Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

His teammates were well into their breakfasts by the time John Sheppard approached the group's customary table, tray in hand.

Teyla's smile faded as she eyed his few selections. "John?"

McKay stopped chewing. "Something's wrong."

A raised eyebrow was Ronon's way of adding his own inquiry while he silently awaited an explanation.

"Long night." John set down his tray and observed Rodney's eyes widening in fear. "No, not nightmares," John assured.

Rodney relaxed and began to chew again. "Maybe you should spend more time in Carson's voodoo chamber."

After his latest run-in with a Wraith John had spent a night under Beckett's watchful eye ~ and he hadn't complained much about being in the infirmary. Carson gave him 'a wee something' and John had slept soundly for the first time since returning to Atlantis. First time and only time. Two nights back in his own quarters and no rest ~ there was too much on his mind. Being kicked out of the city by a bunch of prissy asses hadn't sat well, but the Ancients had been murdered, and he wouldn't have wished that on anyone. Over and over he kept remembering the moment Helia took control of the city, and he kept calculating the odds of the Ancient ship being in the same place as the Daedalus; if they'd not made contact, the Ancients would still be alive.

"If it is not nightmares, what is causing your wakefulness?" Teyla voiced her concern. John knew she'd noted his lack of color; his own mirror showed him he looked like Hell.

John shook his head. "...Just a bit...restless." He shrugged and half-heartedly began his meal.

McKay was attacking his pancakes with fork and knife. "Hah. 'Restlessness.' You mean 'cabin fever' and everybody has it because we're stuck here." He shoveled a spongy square into his mouth and chomped forcefully. "We should be contacting allies to find out what's going on, maybe even check out the Asuran homeworld. Take the fight to them," he finished determinedly.

John paused with his coffee cup at his lips and with raised eyebrows shared a smile with Teyla and Ronon, then they all turned their attention to the fourth member of the team.

Rodney nodded as he swallowed, acknowledging their stares. "Yes, well, I was using the collective, 'gung-ho we' because I don't actually want to go, it's just being told I can't leave..." He grimaced and savaged another bite-sized square. "If Ronon and Teyla can come and go, why can't I? I'm a civilian. And you're military, so does he really have authority over you?" McKay glared across the room at the source of his disgruntlement.

John looked over at the 'he' Rodney referred to, the IOA representative who was making every Expedition member miserable with his officious restrictions and supervision. Elizabeth Weir nearly always escorted him, acting as buffer between the IOA and Atlantis personnel. Her diplomatic skills were probably never before so keenly employed as by running the current interference.

"What's wrong with this picture?" Rodney tossed out the rhetorical question while adding syrup to his last bites. "The Daedalus will be here in a few days and we're supposed to have updated intel on the Wraith and Replicators. With no Gate travel? Seriously? We have more personnel arriving and we're not set up to take on more people. We're supposed to have new city specs so we're traipsing randomly into the city but we have no time to prepare nor to explore and not enough trained hands and only one ZedPM so we're hardly learning more than what we know from city sensors. It's a complete waste of our time ~ time that should be spent in other pursuits." He lowered his voice and looked at his teammates. "I say we overwhelm him with numbers and do what has to be done ~ whether he likes it or not."

John slid a glance past Teyla and Ronon. No one actually disagreed with Rodney's sentiment, but open disregard would bring its own complications and they didn't want to draw attention to the fact they were already circumventing one IOA dictum ~ continual skeleton shifts of science personnel were operating under the radar in order to investigate changes in the city. New systems that had been brought on-line by the Ancients and Replicators needed further study or needed to be deactivated, and familiar systems had required re-initialization. Because the most senior personnel were at the beck-and-call of the IOA, Radek Zelenka was in charge of examining the data as well as monitoring the exploration of the squads making the daily IOA forays into the city. McKay's attitude in part was due to being relegated to the sidelines, doing busywork until the odd hour when they were all free from observation and could meet to discuss each day's findings. Like some outlaw sect, John considered.

Without verbal input from the others McKay continued, "So, Great-Aunt Madge wants us to look for monsters under the bed instead of glancing out the window to see if we're surrounded by wolves or checking the main power box to see if the whole place is set to blow." He finished defiantly, "And this would go a lot faster if we still had all three ZedPMs."

Ronon pushed back his chair, preparing to stand. "I have a training session," he announced, cutting off further McKay Mutterings about ZPMs, the same grievance Rodney had been airing for two weeks and which they were all heartily tired of hearing.

"At least that's something," Rodney conceded. "Having a bunch of grunts sitting around swapping can-you-top-this military macho tales while eating us out of house and home was hardly a good use of resources." He frowned as he chewed.

John rolled the sip of coffee on his tongue before swallowing. The addition of training in the schedule was 'something', but it wasn't enough ~ they needed to go off-world. The new recruits that had accompanied them through the Gate had basically sat on their duffs for nearly two weeks ~ the IOA agenda hadn't included a plan to educate newcomers. Civilians had been brought up to speed by their resident colleagues in scientific or support roles, but military matters were different. Training had only begun in the last couple days and only after Elizabeth had pointed out to 'Great-Aunt Madge' the waste of manpower, considering, as a resource, the soldiers were ill-used as dish-washers and floor-moppers. John smiled inwardly. Weir had a nice, firm hand when it came to overturning edicts ~ politely, of course.

And she wasn't always successful. John sobered. No argument could sway the guy into using the Gate to assess what had transpired during their absence. Elizabeth had maintained their need to restock their stores, so Ronon's and Teyla's frequent 'trading' missions were their only method to gather information.

The atmosphere in the city was unsettling. Occupying Atlantis felt like being a caged prisoner, waiting for release. John looked around. The cafeteria was filled with the whispers of frustrated personnel who couldn't openly voice their annoyance.

"I, too, must prepare for a training session." Teyla picked up her tray and prepared to leave, but her interruption hardly made a dent in the flow of McKay's monologue. "We will see you later, John." She smiled and walked with Ronon to the exit.

"He does realize they have to have training off-world, right?" Rodney scraped up the last syrup with his spoon. "Which brings me back to the reason for cabin fever." McKay's jaw suddenly dropped open. "What if he doesn't leave on the Daedalus?" he asked in alarm. "We could be under house arrest for months!"

John turned his attention to Elizabeth and the IOA 'guest'. Weir met his gaze. She almost ~ almost ~ rolled her eyes. John was resigned. Another day of IOA busywork.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

The thud of another fallen body made John want to smile, but he kept a solemn eye on the activities. No matter how many times he'd witnessed it there was still a comic element to seeing Teyla bring down someone twice her size. Despite their chuckles, John recognized the watchfulness and serious study in the eyes of the new recruits ~ they were finally preparing for the job.

The mood in the room was fairly light. John rolled his neck to relax tension and cast his gaze around the group. They all needed this. The old hands who were present to help with training could blow off steam and the eager newcomers could begin what they had come to Atlantis to do. The cream of the crop was posted to the SGC and from there only top applicants went on to Pegasus, yet these specialists had spent over a week doing the equivalent of KP duty and peeling potatoes. Even 'the best the SGC had to offer' could feel frustration.

John had met the new personnel briefly at the SGC during a basic orientation. Usually orientation took place upon arrival in Atlantis ~ welcome speech, tour of the city, housing assignment, medical exam, gene therapy, all of which was followed by extensive training for the military members. Normally by this time they'd have had days of off-world experience. Normally.

John set his shoulder against the wall and let his eyes lazily peruse the crowded room, making assessments. Training was really re-training, to create new second-nature reactions because Pegasus was not the Milky Way; a new set of skills was required to deal with an enemy that viewed you as a Big Mac in boots. Anyone who felt they already knew it all needed a reality-check. Fast. That kind of hubris could get people killed.

Being assigned to the Expedition was the dream job, but some couldn't make the adjustment. There was a difference between knowing help was a step away on the other side of the Puddle, and realizing the only help available was weeks away on the Daedalus. They were on their own. The orientation period was normally the time to look for potential difficulties.

The problem, of course, was that nothing was normal. John shifted his weight and leaned back against the wall, crossing the other ankle. He'd spent most of his time dealing with the IOA 'To Do List' and the rest of the time keeping a low profile. Being somewhat 'on the lam' had him peering over his shoulder like a fugitive and feeling as if he were being watched. He rolled his shoulders again and pulled away from the wall to stand straight. He waited for Ronon to look his way. The big man's glance slid to a knot of men in the corner and then back to John. It was now unanimous. John focused his attention on the small group in the corner but maintained his casual demeanor.

Even under normal circumstances it was difficult to become acquainted with every single member of his command. John tried, at least to know them all by sight and certainly to know his officers. He knew his informal style confused some recruits, but most of them quickly understood that foregoing the crease in one's trousers didn't mean a lack of structure and order. Some recruits never got it and for them, Atlantis was not a good fit.

John had given the usual welcome speech, but further association had been limited. Lorne had taken the lead in his absence, continuing orientation while Teyla and Ronon began simple exercises. John had spoken with Lorne and Teyla, and now Ronon. Training allowed for close observation of individuals, but it was better to defer any final judgment until after off-world exercises.

First impressions were often very important. Would things be different if they weren't under restrictions? Over the years a few people had not fit in, but at the moment no one felt as if they truly belonged. The IOA presence made everyone uncomfortable in what should be their own home. John felt powerless.

Rodney was right. Everyone was touchy, conferring in corridors, wondering when things would return to normal. John closed his eyes. It was always something. Which was worse? Dealing with the Wraith or Replicators or the IOA?

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John sat at his desk in late afternoon, massaging the cramped fingers of both hands. Doing paperwork, handwritten or computer-generated, was exhausting, especially when, in the end, the documents served no purpose. As Rodney repeatedly complained, they were being directed by a bean-counter who didn't know the Pegasus Playbook, and Earth Rules simply didn't apply.

With the increase in personnel, including newbies needing training, and unwanted scrutiny by the IOA, being in Atlantis had literally turned into a pain. John rubbed his forehead and mentally calculated in hours when the Daedalus would arrive. After the ship left for Earth with their unwanted guest they could openly ignore the IOA authority and focus their efforts ~ determining the state of the city, the command of which had recently passed through so many hands. Their present ownership seemed tenuous ~ by default they were in possession. John sighed. He supposed he had a conscience. Atlantis's architects were not ghosts long gone, but real beings he had met. An unforeseen chain of events had brought about their deaths...and the Expedition members had survived.

McKay's comment that 'Aunt Madge' was afraid of monsters under the bed was certainly on target ~ teams were doing little more than peering into spaces and moving on. Exploration of the city required organization and methodical reference to information in the Database. The room-to-room sweep took manpower, was time-consuming yet rushed, and of minimal depth.

Priorities were askew. They needed to know their overall status, both citywide and on the galactic stage. John drummed fingers on the desktop. What was happening in Pegasus? The disguised trading trips were inadequate for the purpose of intel and the mandate against Gate travel was like sticking their heads in the sand while their backsides were left available for that unexpected bite. Did the IOA truly believe that never leaving the planet would somehow keep the city safe? They could meet quietly to discuss their covert examination of city systems, but there was no way they could hide using the Gate.

They were all on edge. When the Pencil Pusher left they'd need downtime just to unwind. A short R&R for everyone. John contemplated spending time on New Athos. Drinking a little Roos wine with Halling. Telling some stories to Jinto and the kids. He let out a breath and shook his head. Five more days.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"If he doesn't want to hear the answer, then why ask?" Rodney further smashed his mashed potatoes and with fork and knife, divided the formless mass into squares. "I give him what he asks for, so he asks for something else. _All_ of which is in reports that he's supposedly already seen." He scraped the potatoes back into a mound and mashed it all again before taking a bite.

John watched Rodney mangle his meal and could sympathize with the frustration behind the process. "Try to stay out of his way." John had fine-tuned his own avoidance strategy.

"Easy for you to say," Rodney retorted before shoving a forkful of mush into his mouth. "I can't exactly hide in plain sight. You guys can dash down hallways or duck into doorways and claim you're 'training', but I have to be 'on call'. This is a serious waste of time. We know that having three working ZedPMs changed things ~ literally opened doors. We have to determine what those changes mean." Rodney took a bite and chewed vigorously. "He thinks he can accomplish in two weeks what has been a work-in-progress for two years? And what about the rest of the galaxy? There's more than just Atlantis to consider."

Teyla stepped in to change the topic. "Ronon and I are still gathering information during trading. The death of the Ancestors has affected everyone. Some worlds view it as a sign they must look after themselves. Others see it as proof nothing can be done."

"We've lost ground with some worlds," Ronon restated. "They think there's no way to fight."

Just one more thing they weren't doing, John thought. They needed to be out there, making good-will missions, contacting their allies, expanding the network of planets. And they needed to be out there for Atlantis personnel; people were tired of being cooped up. In the open mess hall their voiced antagonism toward current restrictions reminded John of a flock of angry birds.

"He's mini-micro-managing. Like he's a specialist on space? The Guru of Galactic Know-how?" Rodney made a mountain of mush and turned it into a lake by adding gravy to a central indentation. "We may someday salvage something from this mess when we can actually take the time to study the information Radek's people are gathering, trailing behind the IOA Rubber Necks. It's mostly empty rooms, which we don't have time to catalog thoroughly, and old labs, like we've seen before and which we don't have time to evaluate because the Peekaboo People move on to the next room." He firmed his features and scowled at John. "You're just avoiding him. We should overrule him. Great-Aunt Madge is gumming up the works. People can't say what they think in front of him and he seems to be everywhere."

"Who is this person you use for reference?" Teyla wanted to know. "Is she a relative still living?"

Rodney frowned in exasperation. "It's not a real person, just a fussy old name. And it fits," he added. "Well, his own fits, too, but 'Great-Aunt Madge' is something I can remember and with his name being what it is..." Rodney looked nervous.

John smiled to himself. McKay mistakenly misusing a name. Wouldn't that be fun. "Whittle? Fiddle? Piddle?" he teased.

"Don't give me ideas," Rodney snapped.

'Aunt Madge' worked, John ruminated, but the way the guy had them jumping to do busywork and then had them sitting on their thumbs, he should be named... "Twiddle?"

Rodney glowered at John, then ignored him by turning away to address Teyla and Ronon. "This is not the time, but the IOA snipe hunts are forcing us to concentrate on studying our own backyard. Which would be easier if we had three ZedPMs."

"Snipe?" Teyla looked at Ronon in confusion.

McKay could wear a topic down to the bone. John wearily closed his eyes and reached out for the soothing presence of the city in the midst of the raucous thrum. The last couple weeks felt like a year. It was irritating to have to skulk in corridors and invent somewhere else to be in order to avoid 'Mr. Twiddle'. John smiled. Yeah, that felt good.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John woke suddenly from a sound sleep. He lay still and tried to pinpoint what had roused him so quickly to full consciousness. He heard voices, but no running feet or alarms to cause concern.

Three nights in a row. John tensed. This was more than restlessness, it was outright insomnia. When Helia took control of the city she had no way of knowing Atlantis could not withstand the attack by the Replicators. The Ancients were confident because they were unaware Rodney had changed the Asuran code. Unintended consequences. Prissy asses or no, John felt the responsibility. Perhaps if the Expedition hadn't been evicted there would have been time to explain changes that had occurred in Pegasus in ten-thousand years. If the Daedalus hadn't been there to meet the Ancient ship, if Helia hadn't assumed control of the city and forced the Expedition out, if Rodney hadn't altered the Replicator code. If, if, if. And if the Ancients hadn't reclaimed Atlantis, the Expedition members would have died instead.

John closed his eyes and breathed evenly, trying to relax. The persistent tension made it hard to find Atlantis's hum.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"Don't say it." He hadn't even sat down, but John attempted to forestall his team from voicing what he could see in their faces ~ he knew they had not missed the dark circles under his eyes that accompanied his now-normal morning pallor. He set his breakfast tray on the table and pulled out a chair. And waited.

Rodney gave John time to settle at the table before commenting, "Carson can give you something so you can sleep."

What he needed, John thought, was a couple aspirin and a few days on a nice beach. A little surfing. And some Budweiser. And then a week of solid shuteye, with no interruptions.

"John, you do look unwell. Perhaps you should visit the infirmary, just to be certain." Teyla glanced at Ronon for support.

"They're right," Ronon confirmed. "You should see Beckett again. Maybe there's something the doc missed."

"Look." John picked up his coffee mug as a stall tactic. He didn't want to mention what kept going through his mind; he knew Rodney felt bad about his own role in the Ancients' demise. "I'm stuck here, like everybody else. I'm frustrated by what we're doing, and concerned about what we're not doing. Like everybody else. I'm wasting my time with paperwork and I'll probably have to send a marine home." He glanced at Teyla and Ronon. "Once we're on our own again, things'll straighten out. I'm fine," he promised, blowing a cooling breath on the dark brew.

Rodney hesitated, then began spooning cereal into his mouth, gearing up for his daily rehash of the goings-on. "Zelenka's confirmed more changes. He's assigned several people to examine these rooms ~ carefully ~ but most of what they're finding will probably be shut down because we won't know what it is without ZedPMs to power up the equipment. Without power we may not even be able to access what looks like banks of datafiles. Which means the IOA site-seeing trips are yielding zip."

John worked at relieving the band of pressure behind his eyes; his attempts to stay out of the IOA's crosshairs had generated a constant headache. Slowly sipping coffee, he rested his chin in one hand and listened to Rodney's complaints. The whole Expedition was a powder keg of irritation, annoyance, boredom and resentment. Any polite reserve people had once felt was long gone ~ they weren't even bothering to lower their voices during their mealtime conversations. John just hoped they could cordially send the guy off on the Daedalus before everyone's temper exploded. He mentally recalculated the ship's arrival time.

"I think the Ghostbusters may actually have received instructions to look for poltergeists. What other reason to do a search if it's essentially only a visual check?" Rodney lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Should we tell You-Know-Who that he's more apt to unleash a ten-thousand-year old experiment than to find a Wraith hiding in the city?" He straightened and gripped his spoon. "So, he thinks if The Thing is here, searchers can find it but Ancient technology can't?" He chewed a mouthful of cereal. "We really really need to get him out of my hair."

They all wanted out from under IOA restraint. Was thick skin a requirement for a position with the IOA, John wondered. Had 'Madge' ever considered that he was the problem? Even if he were so obtuse not to notice people's attitude toward him, the tension was almost palpable, like a visible threat or warning. And how could 'Madge' ignore the chatter? The strident voices reverberated in the mess hall, adding to John's headache. They just needed to maintain control a few more days. McKay's voice droned on, blending into the increasing noise of the crowd.

"Then there's 'hurry up and wait' and that's a waste of _more_ time." Rodney stared at his cereal bowl. " _He's_ making reports on _'efficiency'_? Hah. I _could_ be working on something if I didn't have to stop every five minutes to check how many paper clips we used last week. We _could_ have shown him the true power of the city but we only have one ZedPM. How can he make any kind of recommendation regarding the Expedition if we can't do what we routinely– " He frowned at grain flakes sogging in makeshift milk. "Is anything in Pegasus considered routine?"

Ronon chimed in, "Effective training requires routine."

"It is only a few days more, but I hate to see everyone so unhappy," Teyla commented. "The atmosphere the little man makes is stifling. People are so tense, so quiet," she sympathized.

Quiet. The breath stilled in John's lungs. Slowly he lifted his head to look around the hall. People ate steadily, heads down. There was little movement...and only desultory conversation. A frisson of fear skittered down John's spine.

John rose to his feet, aware of the stunned silence at his own table. He turned slowly, in a partial circle, to study the subdued faces. The noisy murmur of the last few days, the intense, unintelligible whispering of an animated crowd, was suddenly deafening. John pressed fingertips to his forehead in an attempt to lessen the dissonance. His breath came harshly to block out the throbbing behind his brow. He swayed, reached for support, and overturned a chair as he staggered to the floor, still gripping the table edge with one white-knuckled hand.

John could see hands reaching out to help him to his feet. The mounting clamor in his mind clarified into an overlapping repetition of one distinct voice: "The city is now under my control." John swallowed hard. On his knees he tried to speak over the pounding in his skull. His voice came out as a croak he didn't recognize and could barely hear above the echo in his head.

"Did he say 'Helia'?" John heard Rodney's question before the sudden blaring of the citywide siren. His cheek hurt when he hit the floor. Then all went black.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John woke to the sound of running feet and alarms. Even with his eyes closed he knew he was in the infirmary ~ the familiar hushed tones and muffled sounds of a specific human activity. There was a buzz in his mind like an insistent reminder.

It took too much effort to open his eyes. John tried to recall events before the infirmary as the noise around him grew more intrusive. There was an argument he could hear if he concentrated on blocking out the constant background cacophony, but it was hard to focus and make sense of the blurred words.

"We need him awake and aware, not in a drugged stupor!"

"Rodney, Colonel Sheppard is in a great deal of pain."

"A Tylenol Moment is going to be the least of his worries if we can't stop what's happening!"

"Perhaps she is trying to contact John because he is the nearest thing to an Ancestor." Teyla's voice, nearby. "If she tried but could not fully ascend, perhaps she also cannot return."

John worked at identifying all the voices. He tried lifting his eyelids. A lance of pain made him squeeze the lids tight again.

"He's awake." Ronon, somewhere near Teyla.

"What does Helia want?" Rodney's question was abrupt and close. John carefully opened his eyes to mere slits and woozily moved his head to see McKay leaning over him, anxiously awaiting an answer. The question didn't make sense.

"What did she say?" Rodney asked urgently.

John pushed his tongue around in order to produce saliva. He opened his mouth to speak, but the vise at his temples suddenly tightened. He locked his jaw and pulled in breath.

Rodney pushed upright and raised a hand to his earbud. "McKay." His face showed fearful shock and resignation. "Have you tried more than one combination? ...I'm on my way." He pointed at John. "He's the key to solving this. I'll be back as soon as I can. Try to get some answers from him!"

"Wha's hap'n?" John managed to ask after Rodney's departure.

Carson shook his head. "I don't know how ye're awake, considering the medications ye've received," he marveled, "but ye'd be better off if ye'd sleep." He sighed when John firmed his expression into stubbornness. "Ye have a headache, don't ye? And nausea? Ye're experiencing massive unexplained neuro– "

John wanted to shake his head. "N'," he whispered the interruption instead. "City." One word and he was exhausted.

"The city's in lockdown," Ronon answered from his position at the foot of John's bed. "Gate won't work."

"The Jumper Bay also is not functional," Teyla added from the bedside. "We cannot leave Atlantis."

John studied their expressions and tone of voice. Something else was going on. He could hear the dampened sound of the city alarm. He stared steadily at each face before him.

Ronon crossed his arms and straightened. "Life support and power have shut off in some sections."

Teyla rushed to be reassuring. "It is only the outskirts and we have no personnel at risk in any of those areas. The process was slow enough that we had advance notice. Everyone has been moved to the center of the city. We are all safe."

"So far," Ronon inserted, and received a look from Teyla.

Carson contributed solemnly, "Rodney says they're not sure why it's happening, so they don't know whether it will continue, and they haven't found a way to stop it."

John closed his eyes. The hum in his mind was like a whisper, urgent with a need he couldn't decipher, a muted meaning he couldn't quite understand but which left him with the single-minded certainty of his destination. "Hep m' up."

"Colonel, ye can't go racing around the city!" Carson Beckett wore the face of a medical man intent on standing his ground. "I'm concerned about possible swelling. The human brain was not meant to accommodate the type and volume of activity– "

"Haf' t' leaf." John lifted his head, intending to rise. He held out a hand to be grasped. "Ga'e Rmm."

Beckett pushed John's shoulders down to the bed. "Colonel– " He stopped and tried a different tack. "John, listen to me. Leave it to Rodney and the others." He paused to give his words heft. "Ye can do irreparable harm to yerself. Ye've experienced several ... incidents, almost like mini-seizures. Yer brain is essentially being overloaded and yer heart-rate and BP are dangerously high. Stroke is a very real possibility... or something worse."

John shifted his gaze and stared hard at Ronon, who stared back. Ronon said, "Sheppard knows what he's doing."

There was a sudden change in stance of those around the bed. John was the only one without an earbud, but the squawking was so loud John could hear the bleats of Rodney's agitation.

Teyla broke the news. "Rodney says Atlantis started the self-destruct countdown. That is why he was called to the Control Room. They have all tried and none of their codes can stop what is already programmed in the systems." She looked apologetically at the doctor. "We are running out of time, Carson. We must take John to the Gate Room as he asks."

With some assistance John managed to sit up as the pounding on the inside of his forehead increased tempo. Gingerly he lowered his legs over the side of the bed; he clenched his teeth as nausea roiled. When his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled and he would have face-planted if Ronon hadn't caught him.

Teyla rushed over with a wheelchair. Ronon settled John in the chair, all the while Beckett was grabbing a medical kit, muttering under his breath loud enough that everyone was aware of his disapproval. And then they ran ~ Ronon pushing the chair as fast as he could manage, Teyla, with her hand on John's shoulder to keep him upright in the seat, and Beckett, still voicing his disapproval as he followed at a distance. John just concentrated on ignoring the effect rolling motion had on his nausea.

When they reached the Gate Room entryway John gestured for Ronon to stop. With his teammates' help John lifted himself out of the chair, then the trio walked up the ramp as a single, ungainly unit. John was dizzy, sweating, and with each step he focused only on taking the next step. He heard Rodney call his name and come running down the stairs to meet them.

"What did she– ?" Nothing could have told John more about his appearance than Rodney's aborted question. John wasn't sure he could hold on long enough to do what had to be done.

There was a chant in John's mind, an incantation that timed the cadence of their irregular steps. John slowed before the Gate, held steady by his friends. He lifted his right hand, palm downward. The console rose from the floor. A jolt ran through his arm and Teyla and Ronon let go of him, faltering backwards. John lowered his hand to the panel, feeling a painful, discordant buzz along his palm. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the single word that kept playing in his mind ~ 'Release.' His chin jerked upward as if yanked by hidden strings, he stiffened, his spine arched back at a painful angle that made the cords stand out in his neck. Power raced from his outstretched hand to be grounded through the soles of his feet. He crumpled to the floor.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John woke to Atlantis's hum at the back of his mind and whispers– His eyes flew open. He was lying on the Gate Room floor and bending over him were his team, Elizabeth, Carson and probably every member of the Expedition within shouting range ~ he knew what a mouse felt like at a cat convention. He allowed his gaze to pass over the concerned faces until he saw the unnerved expression of the IOA representative. Too bad the intergalactic bridge wasn't fully operational ~ the man didn't look as if he wanted to wait for the Daedalus to take him back to Earth. John had the feeling the guy would already be home if he could hold his breath and run the distance.

"What happened?" John tried to sit up but was kept in place by the fixed hand of Dr. Beckett.

"Easy, son," the Scot advised. "How d'ye feel?" He removed the blood-pressure cuff from around John's arm and placed it and a stethoscope in his medical bag.

John considered the question. "Worn out, but the headache's gone." As was the dissonant background murmuring.

Beckett aimed a penlight into John's eyes. "Ye seem fine, but further tests are definitely called for, to be certain."

"Did you really see Helia?" Rodney asked.

Elizabeth straightened and dispersed the circle. "Colonel Sheppard is fine, so you can all go back to your posts." The whispers of the crowd that had ceased when John opened his eyes resumed as people walked away. Weir turned to the IOA representative. "Dr. Beckett will want to examine Colonel Sheppard in the infirmary, so why don't we go to my office to fill out the paperwork required for this event?" She glanced at John and held a straight face as she ushered the stiff little man toward the main steps; he walked as if in a trance, stumbling on the first stair.

John tried again to sit up. "I'm fine, Doc. Really."

"Ye heard Dr. Weir," Carson admonished. "Ye need to be examined." He added smoothly, "Startin' with yer head." He winked and backed away to allow Ronon to help John to his feet.

John hissed quietly when he straightened ~ the bottoms of his feet tingled. His small exclamation drew only a mild inquiry from the doctor, whose attention was following the dazed man ascending the stairs, one step, pause, next step, pause.

"Lend me your shoulder," John motioned to Ronon. Carson Beckett positioned the wheelchair behind John, but John shook his head. "I'm good, Doc. Heels feel funny ~ sorta numb." John was amused. It was clear Beckett's concern was divided as he fussed over John but kept looking elsewhere.

Teyla turned in curiosity to watch the slow progress of Weir and the IOA man. She took hold of the handles of the wheelchair and smiled at the doctor. "We will take him," then added, "and meet you in the infirmary." Beckett hardly waited a moment to choose where he thought he was needed most.

"He probably thinks Great-Aunt Madge needs a tranquilizer or something," Rodney offered as an explanation as he watched the doctor hustle up the stairs with his med-kit.

Teyla observed, "That poor man does look very shocked."

"Maybe an enema would help," McKay opined snarkily.

John closed his eyes as he walked. His arm over Ronon's shoulder was awkward, but the big guy let him set the pace and a pins-and-needles feeling was returning to his feet. John listened to the conversation between Teyla and Rodney as they trailed behind and he relaxed inwardly ~ some things felt right again.

"So, now that we're in the clear," Rodney lowered his voice and moved to John's side, "what about Helia?"

John was quiet. How to explain that the normal 'hum' he felt as a restful, everyday presence had 'felt' more like voices? "Helia wasn't here, Rodney."

"I didn't really think she was...entirely." McKay frowned. "How did you know what to do? And what exactly _did_ you do?"

John shook his head slowly. "All I recall is trying not to upchuck on my boots," he replied sardonically.

"You held out your hand, the console appeared, you played Hands-on Harry and then you just...fell. The good news is the city rebooted and we're back to where we were before." Rodney looked at John suspiciously. "You sure you don't remember the console? Because after you pass– uh, fainted, it disappeared."

John knitted his brow. "I had to go to the Gate Room," he said softly. "...That's it. I don't even remember getting there."

"I suppose this means you won't be able to do it again," McKay griped. "You do realize that you briefly had control of the entire city?! So," he changed direction, "if Helia wasn't really here, what does she have to do with all this?"

John was silent a moment. "Lately I've been thinking a lot... when she took over the city. The Ancients would still be alive if we hadn't interfered," he finished, with a careful look at McKay.

Rodney looked uncomfortable. How much blame was there to go around, including the Ancients, who didn't think the Expedition members could contribute anything of value?

Rodney finally spoke. "When we first arrived the city was waiting for us. The Ancients had left Atlantis for us to find. There was no provision made this time." He looked closely at John. "How long have you had the headache?"

John thought back over the last few days. One good night's rest, then the tension had begun ~ along with what he'd thought were the mutterings of discontented personnel. "Yesterday," he concluded. "I've had a kind of insomnia since the infirmary."

Rodney snapped his fingers repeatedly. "When the wild-goose chasers started exploring the latest wing. It makes sense. It was Atlantis. Telling you there was a problem."

"Teyla?" John was tired. He slid his arm from Ronon's shoulder and settled in the chair. "I'm good, just really tired." Ronon took control of the chair from Teyla, then the group leisurely moved forward. John shook his head to stay awake. "McKay, what're you talkin' about?"

Energetically Rodney explained his theory. "Carson said your brain pattern was superimposed with a pattern similar to Ancient tech. When the self-destruct started, a secondary signal registered in the Control Room. What your Super Gene was picking up was stronger than a normal ATA field and not quite the same pattern. Hence the headache. After you shut down city systems and they restarted, the signal vanished. So did the headache. Carson wasn't surprised your vitals returned to normal."

"What does this have to do with Helia?" John asked.

"Look," Rodney began fervently. "Helia still had control of the city. She'd initiated security protocols, so we were, in fact, intruders. When we entered the new section, as intruders, that act tripped an early-warning signal. Hmm. I wonder what would have happened if we'd backed off then?" He was lost in thought until Teyla prompted him. "Yes, well, the early warning ~ your insomnia ~ was a reminder of Helia's control. Then the city locked down and life support began turning off because we ventured farther into the secure area. We finally triggered the self-destruct when we breached the inner complex."

"I heard her," John admitted. "Just vague whispers. Then louder. More frequent." He looked at his teammates. "Today it was constant. And painful. I could tell it was Helia."

Rodney was nodding vigorously. "That was Atlantis. We kept exploring, the warning became more urgent, and finally, with the self-destruct, it was blaring, a broadcast that Helia's control was still in effect. Unfortunately you're the only one who was getting the message. And not very clearly, obviously."

"What's so special about those rooms?"

McKay's demeanor became grumpy. "We'll have to wait until Great-Aunt Madge leaves to sort things out..." His expression turned sly. "I wonder if he's recovered from seeing an example of the 'daily routine' in Pegasus." He straightened. "Serves him right. Elizabeth warned him anything could be dangerous if he went around poking his nose into unknown areas, especially since the sensors are not fully functional because we only have one ZedPM." Rodney's tone indicated personal insult.

John noticed that Ronon picked up the pace. The chair rolled along smoothly, creating a soporific effect.

"I do not understand," Teyla said. "How is it possible that the Replicators took over Atlantis if Helia was still in control?"

"Think about it," Rodney replied. "Sheppard didn't have a problem until Great-Aunt Madge accidentally sent people to nose around the wrong rooms. There weren't that many Replicators and they weren't interested in exploring." He was breathing heavily as he matched Ronon's pace. "When the Replicators did eventually enter the complex, Atlantis would've destroyed herself and them. The city locks down, so there's no escape. Communications cut out, so there's no transfer of intel. Life support begins shutting off, so intruders are forced into the central section of the city. And then the city self destructs."

"Whoever gets in doesn't get out," Ronon simplified.

"Two-and-a-half years and we've barely dipped into the Database," John commented. "What _isn't_ in the Database that's so important they'd want to hide it so far from the tower?"

"My guess? Certain scientific work, like intergalactic hyperdrive." Rodney's tone made conjecture sound like fact. "The only thing in the Database that we've easily accessed is information on planets and maps. The Database is huge and redundant, as you know. All the 'dipping' hasn't given us information on how to build a ZedPM or how the Gates create artificial wormholes. The Wraith don't have that kind of technology. The security is likely a measure against Wraith incursion."

"What of their history?" Teyla suggested. "We know so little about them and we have found nothing in the Database as yet. They would want to protect their personal story."

"I agree." Rodney continued, "It would explain why we can't find record of their origins or what happened to them. And it makes me think, even if Atlantis is _the_ City of the Ancients, there could be more sister cities out there. Abandoned or not. And any number of Outposts, used for scientific endeavors." He did a hop-skip to keep up and took a deep breath to continue. "Of course the bad news is that when the city reset, the room reset. We _had_ been there before and it looked like any other empty workspace in the city. Now we know what's hidden, it's going to be a job to bring back the interface and break the encryption. Which would go faster if we had three ZedPMs. Everything would go faster with three ZedPMs. This could all have been avoided because we'd have detected the first warning signal instead of being unaware until the self-destruct broadcast."

John watched with a smile as Rodney matched his speed to Ronon's and didn't seem to notice the required effort.

"Great-Aunt Madge sort of looked like he'd need bed-rest," Rodney suggested. "Maybe we can start right away on the room."

"You can start without me. I just wanna go back to my quarters and sleep." John raised a hand to cover a yawn.

"Infirmary first," Ronon declared.

John tilted his head back to look up at Ronon, who looked down and grinned after increasing the pace again.

"You know, the Gate Room floor is seamless," Rodney puffed. "It's not only a question of how you raised it, but where did the console go?" he wondered aloud. "If we could set up a similar scenario," he put forth excitedly, "and activate the self-destruct, maybe you'd be able to bring up the console– "

"Rodney!" Teyla was shocked. "This was very dangerous for John!" She proceeded in a level voice. "We will all wait together for Carson to run some tests." Her tone allowed no dissent. "I think your 'Great-Aunt Madge' will be very quiet from now on. We can enjoy a few days of rest until the Daedalus arrives."

"You mean until the next catastrophe comes along," Rodney grumbled. "Something happens around here about every week."

"Well, we're done for this week," John responded, "so odds are we're not due for another crisis for a while."

"Hah. Do you realize how often we go from frying pan into fire? It could be anything, coming out of the blue..." Rodney switched gears. "Do you think this would be a good time to put in a claim for another ZedPM? If we'd had fully functioning sensors throughout the city this wouldn't have happened. Maybe a short memo..." McKay began silently composing his argument.

Ronon picked up the pace again. The wheelchair was moving at a pretty good clip and Teyla was practically jogging.

"Hey, wait!" Rodney realized he'd been left behind.

Some things would never change. John smiled and closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. *~*

Author's Note: Wow. This story was really hard to write, and not only because I had been 'out of the game' for so long. The idea came when I was writing Underlying Cause and I considered, what kinds of changes were made by the Replicators and Ancients and how were those changes lost so that when the Expedition members re-take the city, they end up in the same situation as before Return I/II? [Martin Wood discussed in commentary that technological advances (e.g. acquiring Hives or Goa'uld mother ships) had to be lost, else Earth would gain too much advantage, which would upset the balance in storytelling.] And what ever happened to Helia's control of the city? This was never explored in the series. How could the Replicators take over Atlantis when Helia was in control? That was the question, but then, because the setup (effect on Sheppard) was so similar to UC (or even Unsettled), it was VERY difficult to arrange a story not to be exactly like UC (I'm not even sure I succeeded!). [My muse evidently only works in one way, using the same phrases, vocabulary, structure, etc. Sigh.] In addition, trying to make both pieces fit the time between Return II and Echoes was a real doosie. And then there had to be all that explanation at the end (the hazard of limiting the viewpoint only to Sheppard) for why Helia's control had not caused problems when the Expedition members first arrived. That's why Rodney always has all the dialogue ~ he does all the exposition! [Go, David Hewlett!]

I hope this tale will 'fill the bill' for readers who sent PMs regarding the long interval since my previous story. I intend to write in future, but no guarantees ~ Life has been getting in the way. I have a couple other stories I began long ago, but I hate to post an unfinished tale and I don't know if posting a 'beginning' would push me any faster to the finish.

Thanks for reading.


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